


And the Echo Became a Song

by china_shop



Series: Waltzverse [6]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Elizabeth/Peter/Neal, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It suddenly seemed important to put himself wholly in Neal's hands. (A fluffy, content-free PWP.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Echo Became a Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> With a million thanks to mergatrude for betaing me into submission, and to Sherylyn for Ameripicking. <3

Peter dumped the week's groceries on the kitchen counter. The house was quiet for once. El and Mikey were at a birthday party for someone from El's moms group, and Neal was sleeping late after working past midnight. Satchmo had trailed Peter from the front door to the kitchen, but beyond a hopeful look at the doggy treats, even he didn't seem to want anything. 

Peter gave him a pat anyway and considered going to join Neal. They were all perpetually tired from parenting and partnering, and a nap with company was appealing. But no, it was too nice a day to spend asleep, and he had chores to do. The groceries needed unpacking. He took the ice cream and wedged it into the already crowded freezer, snorting to himself as he remembered what he'd overheard in the frozen food aisle at the supermarket.

"Hey, I thought I heard the door." Neal came in and ran himself a glass of water. He was wearing jeans and a soft, green t-shirt, and going by his damp hair, he'd just showered. 

"Hey, sleepyhead." Peter straightened, wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him, feeling the muscles shift beneath the cotton fabric, catching the faint scent of soap, reveling in the fact of their relationship. It had only been four and a half weeks since he'd found out Neal was alive, but the preceding months of regret and guilt—for failing to protect him, for hiding the extent of his feelings from El, for grieving when he should have been joyful about their son—seemed long ago.

"Mm, good morning." Neal gave him a last kiss and pulled away to drink his water. 

Peter put the jelly and peanut butter away and snorted again. "I heard Will and Lucas talking about us at the store. About me. Apparently no one gets past forty and suddenly discovers they like men. Lucas called you my midlife crisis."

"Beats a Ferrari Spider and a twenty-something blonde." Neal took the cereal boxes from the grocery bags, shook his head at them with a grin and put them in the cupboard.

"Yeah." Repeating it aloud had taken most of the sting out of it, but Peter still wasn't used to people questioning his relationship. No one ever knocked his marriage to El. He sighed. "It's just—I thought they were on our side. They liked you at dinner."

"I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it," said Neal, passing him the packets of dried pasta to put away. "You know what they say about eavesdroppers. And remember, they don't know the full story. As far as they're concerned, we met a few weeks ago and had a whirlwind romance."

"You're right." Peter shrugged it off. So what if his gay credentials didn't meet Lucas' high standards. "You know, it's a beautiful morning, there's nowhere either of us needs to be, no interruptions. Let's go upstairs, and you can fuck me."

Neal was holding a can of coconut milk. He put it on the counter. "Shouldn't we wait for El?"

"She'll understand." A relationship, especially a threesome, was filled with firsts. They couldn't all be there for all of them. Peter went over and hugged Neal close, kissed him. "We'll make it up to her."

Neal cupped Peter's cheek and pulled back—not exactly the reaction Peter had been hoping for. He was even frowning slightly. "Just so long as this is about us, about you wanting it, and not what the neighbors think. You know sex won't prove anything."

Peter wasn't so sure. After hearing Will and Lucas' uncensored opinions, it suddenly seemed important to put himself wholly in Neal's hands. Neal had bottomed twice now, in among everything they'd been doing with El, and Peter had to even the scales. To show Neal he was far more than an expensive toy or an indiscretion.

But Neal was holding back, and Peter couldn't think why. Unless he was hiding something. "You said it felt good."

"It does!" Neal hesitated, and added carefully, "I think it feels amazing, but you've read the websites. It's different for everyone. You might not get the same buzz out of it."

"Won't know till we try." The idea of being fucked—bottoming—was unnerving even now, but Peter knew Neal would do everything in his power to make it pleasurable, and if it hurt and Peter told him to stop, he would. That was a certainty. "I trust you," he said, and pushed Neal against the counter and kissed him again, deeper this time, showing him how much he meant it. How much he wanted him.

Neal broke away, breathing hard, and gestured at the grocery bags. "Is there anything here that'll spoil if we leave it on the counter for an hour?"

"Yogurt." Peter's pulse was racing, his brain static. "I don't know what else. You check, I'll put Satch outside." He grabbed Satchmo by the collar and put him in the yard where he couldn't get into the remaining groceries, then checked the gate was locked, there was enough shade and the outside water bowl was full. 

When he came back in, Neal was closing the fridge, his face flushed. "Took you long enough. Come on."

They ran upstairs and stripped off impatiently, dropping their clothes on the floor with abandon. Neal pushed Peter onto the bed and crawled up over him. "We're not doing this to prove a point to Will and Lucas. This isn't about anything but you and me."

"The infamous Burke and Caffrey," agreed Peter, dragging his palms down Neal's torso, unable to help himself. "Burke and Moreau. How do you want me, Casanova?"

"Right there, on your back. First off, I'm going to blow you till you come," said Neal, and proceeded to lick and nip his way down Peter's body. 

It was familiar and easy, and the delicious pressure of his mouth gradually settled Peter into his skin, let him stop anticipating what was to come and relax in the here and now: the sunshine bright outside, and the luxury of not having to worry about Mikey interrupting. The perfection of Neal going down on him, confident and capable and utterly gorgeous. He was free with his hands today, first rubbing Peter's chest and belly, then hooking one of Peter's legs over his shoulder and stroking down the back of his thigh and up under his ass, brushing the sensitive skin at the top of his crack. Arranging him for his own convenience and doing whatever he wanted. Peter didn't usually go off so fast, but for once, he wasn't trying to hold on. He gave an all-body shudder. "I'm gonna—" 

Neal squeezed his ass and kept going, his lips and tongue sliding up and down, his hand wrapped around Peter's cock, and Peter let loose with a heartfelt groan, waited while he swallowed, and dragged him up into a kiss.

They made out for a long while, lazy and languorous, with Neal still doing his best imitation of an octopus. Peter started getting turned on again, and Neal was hard, his cock pressed against Peter's hip, but he didn't try to move things along, just kept kissing and groping him, until Peter finally cracked and said, "Changed your mind?"

"All in good time." But Neal pulled back and surveyed Peter with satisfaction, his hand low and possessive on Peter's waist. "You look incredible. Shame El had to miss this. Roll over."

This was it, then. Peter rolled onto his belly, tensing slightly, waiting for the click of the lube bottle, but Neal didn't reach for the drawer. He straddled Peter's thighs and nuzzled the nape of his neck, kissed down his spine, spreading his hands across Peter's back, and intellectually Peter knew this was part of Neal's plan, a deliberate seduction, but what it felt like was Neal indulging himself, taking his time because he wanted to, appreciating Peter's body. That was gratifying in itself, and the further down his spine Neal kissed, the more Peter felt loved and wanted, and the more his body melted, till he was drugged with arousal and post-orgasmic bone-deep languor, his pulse slow and heavy. "You're really smart, you know that," he mumbled.

"Mm." Neal moved again, opened the drawer, and then said softly in his ear, "Trust me? Then you have to be honest. Tell me how it feels, even if it hurts."

"Mmf." Peter felt half-asleep, despite being thoroughly turned on. And then Neal pressed a slick, careful finger into him, and he gasped.

"Hey, breathe. I've got you." Neal kissed the corner of his mouth, the heat of his body a warm shadow across Peter's back. "Okay?"

"Yeah." It felt different, a part of his body he'd rarely thought about until recently, all those nerves waking up. It was startling, but it didn't hurt. He breathed. "I'm good."

Neal added another finger, rubbing and easing into him, and then a third, stretching him wide, and Peter pushed back experimentally, adjusting to the sensation, and thought about Neal's fingers inside him. Neal's cock. His arousal spread, somehow, became liquid and caught light.

"Jesus, Neal."

Neal stopped moving. "You want to pause, keep going or stop?"

"Keep going," said Peter, his voice rough to his own ears. "You're not going to leave me hanging."

"I'm going to give you whatever you need. Here, come up." Neal withdrew his fingers and urged Peter onto his hands and knees. There was a brief pause while he put on a condom, and then he was pressing against Peter, pushing in, and Peter's eyes almost rolled back in his head from the confusion of sensations and emotions. At one point, he hissed involuntarily, and Neal froze.

"No," said Peter. "Keep going, do it."

Neal splayed his hand between Peter's shoulder blades and pushed in steadily, saying, "I've got you, Peter. I've got you, you're good. Okay, just wait a second." He shuffled forward on his knees, and something about that made Peter whimper, because Christ, it was _deep_ , Neal inside him. Deep and good and forever. "Hang in there," said Neal. "Just say if you want to stop." And he started fucking him slowly, in and out, the rhythm hypnotic and endless, twining with Peter's heartbeat and his desire and the knowledge of what they were doing, filling him up with feelings and need. Four and a half weeks ago, he'd thought Neal was dead, thought he'd never ever have this, and now they were together, he had everything. He was everything. 

His arms were shaking, his whole body was shaking. "I've got you," repeated Neal, holding him by the hips. "I love you, can't tell you how much." His voice was going ragged, and Peter knew he was trying to hold it together for Peter's sake, to be the one in control, but Peter didn't need that anymore. 

"I'm good," he said. "This is—You can—" He pushed back a couple of times, and Neal, who had always been quick on the uptake, got the message and drove in, speeding up, taking Peter hard. Taking charge in a whole different way. 

Peter's erection was hanging down, swinging with every stroke, and he couldn't jack himself—it was taking all he had just to hold himself up. He was about to say something, ask for it, when Neal apparently read his mind, reached around and took his cock, stroking him and fucking him at once. It was hot and sweaty and goddamn sexy in a completely different way from anything they'd done with El. Transgressive and unashamedly male, with Neal using him how he wanted. Peter's heart sang with it. 

Neal was swearing now, a sure sign he was close, and Peter could feel his own orgasm building, the overlapping sensations of ass and cock, and the sweet certainty of love running through it all. He cried out, dark pleasure surging through him as he came. Neal's thrusts sped faster and faster, and it started to hurt but Peter held on, and a few seconds later Neal finished with a groan and a few final, uneven strokes inside him.

They knelt there, joined together and panting for a long moment, Neal's hands smoothing across Peter's back. Then Peter felt Neal pull out, and he slumped to the mattress. "Ugh."

"What?" Neal was disposing of the condom. "You okay?"

"Wet spot," said Peter, but he was too worn out to move. "Come here. Hey, you didn't have breakfast yet."

"This was better than breakfast." Neal flopped down beside him and touched his cheek. "So, are you a convert?"

"You have to ask?" With a herculean effort, Peter moved onto his side so he could face him properly. Neal was flushed, his hair falling across his forehead, his eyes soft and endlessly blue. Peter drew him close. "You can do that to me any time you want."

"With you," corrected Neal. "And just as well, I'm pretty sure El's going to demand a live action replay." He pulled back, his eyes alight with mischief and warmth, and ran his fingers through Peter's hair, settling it. It was probably sticking up at all angles.

"We'll put on a show for her." Peter rolled them so Neal was on top and grinned up at him. "You know, you're the best midlife crisis I ever had."

Neal laughed. "You know it's mutual." He pressed a tender kiss to Peter's temple. 

Peter smirked, but there was a truth lurking there all the same. All three of them—four, including Mikey—had changed to be together, taken that leap of faith, and now every day was precious and new. Peter was grateful for all of it, even the year of mourning, which had been the catalyst for discovering his deeper feelings for Neal, simply because without that epiphany they'd never have made it here. He hugged Neal tight and rolled them again so they were on their sides, in each other's arms. "Yeah, Sundance. I know."

 

END


End file.
